


Reunions

by JayceCarter



Series: Kinktober 2017 [29]
Category: Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Kinktober 2017, Loneliness, Mistaken Identity, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayceCarter/pseuds/JayceCarter
Summary: The Lone Wanderer has been running for a decade and finds herself in the Third Rail. A handsome man offers her some company for the night, and she is in no position to refuse. Little does she realize, he's someone from her past.





	Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 27: Can we call this a strength kink? Maybe? No?
> 
> Oh well. lol

 

Skinny little RJ MacCready with his smartass and foul mouth had turned into, well, skinny little RJ MacCready with a smartass and a mouth constantly trying to hold in swear words. Finding him hadn’t been hard, not really. Hell, Sam hadn’t gone to the Commonwealth to find him at all.

 

But hear about a mouthy twenty-year-old with aim like his and it wasn’t a hard guess to make. He’d recognized her the moment she’d walked in, but she’d had to ask around for him.

 

Seemed a decade had changed him more than it had her.

 

“From Mayor to merc, huh?” Sam flicked the ash off her cigarette into the coffee cup.

 

“Had to do something. You know the rules, soon as I turned sixteen I was out of there.”

 

“Poor kid turned into a mungo, huh?”

 

He chuckled, arm thrown around the woman he’d introduced as Nora. “Happens to the best of us eventually.”

 

The woman laughed, bringing her elbow into his side. “You know, I always sort of thought you were making up that whole Little Lamplight thing.”

 

“Nope. Trust me, I knew him. He was the littlest asshole you’d ever have seen. Kept telling me off and cursing and calling me a mungo. Still, he was a hell of a shot.”

 

MacCready toed the rifle leaning against the end of the couch. “Was? Still am, vaultie, still am. If you’re looking for a hired gun, I don’t come cheap.”

 

“Not even for old times?”

 

“Nope. But, since I know you, I’m gonna need all the caps up front.”

 

Nora reached over and pinched MacCready’s side. “You knock that off. She needs help? We’re there, no charge.”

 

“You’re supposed to be on my side, boss.” His words came out with the same pout she’d expect from his younger self, despite the obvious affection.

 

“Sorry, but vaulties have to stick together. It’s a hard life for us.” Nora tossed a wink Sam’s way, and it helped her relax.

 

Okay, so she wasn’t MacCready’s parent, and truth be told the age difference wasn’t even that big a thing, now. She’d been 18 when she’d left vault 101, when she’d met him, and he’d been 10. Now, with him 20 and her at 28, she’d find it hard to pull any sort of rank with him.

 

Still, the idea that he’d found himself a woman, a good woman who adored him if the night had shown anything, it made her happy.

 

Kid deserved some happiness, and fuck knew their world didn’t offer it up that often.

 

“I’m probably gonna turn in.” Sam stood and dropped the cigarette into the cup.

 

“Don’t go, Sam. It’s been too long,” MacCready said, getting to his feet, Nora following suit.

 

“I’m getting old, kiddo. Can’t pull all-nighters like I used to.”

 

“Preaching to the choir,” Nora said as she chuckled at some inside joke. “Why don’t we put you up? Statehouse has a bunch of extra rooms.”

 

“I thought that was Hancock’s place?”

 

Nora slid an arm around MacCready’s waist. “It is, but I’ve done enough to burrow right into his good graces. Gives me privileges, like free room and board for me and all my friends, and any friend of Mac’s is a friend of mine.”  

 

Sam remembered that, back when she’d first started out after 101. Making friends and a hell of a lot of enemies. Eventually, though, you just end up wanting to be a little less visible. You end up wanting to be able to go to a bar and drink without anyone knowing you. You just end up wanting some place to call home.

 

And, sure, it seemed all the way in the Commonwealth wasn’t far enough to go for that, but it was a start.

 

“Thanks, but I’ve already got a room at the Rexford.”

 

“Sure, Sam.” MacCready stuck his hands into his pockets, weight shifting like he wasn’t sure what to do.

 

“Good to see you, kid.”

 

“Don’t go running out without saying bye, vaultie.”

 

Sam smiled. “Wouldn’t think of it. Night.”

 

As she went up the stairs, she knew damned well she’d duck out without seeing him again. It was how she did shit, how she survived. She’d had her share of friends, lovers, hell, even loves. She’d outlived them all.

 

Jericho with his sharp words and sharper edges. A super mutant took him when he’d grown too slow. Charon had been her partner, her confidant, but a lifetime of pain had proven too much for him and she’d lost him when he’d taken a deathclaw strike meant for her. It was Butch stayed with her the longest, who she thought she could keep, but the wasteland stole even him.

 

No, people were too damned painful. Better to keep moving, to keep wandering, until she found a place no one knew her.

 

Sam stepped out of the Third Rail into the heat of the night, the smoke and vapors that filled Goodneighbor surrounding her.

 

“Leaving?”

 

Sam set her hand on her pistol as she turned to face the man who had spoken.

 

Fuck.

 

He was tall with wide shoulders and eyes too damned blue to be fair. A scar ran down his cheek, deep and white enough that it had healed years before. He wore jeans a t-shirt as if that would make him fit in.

 

Stupid. A man like that stuck out wherever he went.

 

He smiled, the action softening his features. “I asked if you were leaving. The night is still young.”

 

Damn it. She’d be staring and he’d caught her. She made a show of checking her pipboy. “It’s past midnight. That’s not young where I’m from.”

 

“And where is it you’re from?”

 

“Not here.”

 

“Not one for small talk?”

 

Sam set her hands on her hips, gaze narrowing. “No, not really. Small talk is just bullshitting.”

 

“And you don’t bullshit?”

 

Her fingers tapped against her hips as she watched him, as she let his arrogance soak into her. It shouldn’t be as attractive as it was, damn it. “No, I don’t. Say something worth saying or don’t talk. Talking just gives people shit to use against you.”

 

He laughed before he took a step closer. “You’re rather cynical. I bet you weren’t always like this. In fact, I bet you walked out of that vault fresh-faced and sweet as could be.”

 

“Maybe I killed a vault dweller and stole her shit.”

 

His lips tilted up in a smirk that said he didn’t believe it. “Maybe. Come back to my room with me, vault dweller.”

 

“Aren’t you cocky?”

 

“You were the one who wanted to do away with small talk. I’m just cutting to the chase.”

 

She wanted to turn him down. Sam had learned her lesson enough times, hadn’t she? For all her bluster, she wasn’t the sort who could fuck a man without attachments. She’d thought that the first time with Jericho, the first time with Charon, the first time with Butch. She’d thought they’d blow off some steam, have some fun, then go their own way.

 

It never seemed to work out that way, did it?

 

It would go from want to need, from lust to love, and from love to loss. Every. Fucking. Time.

 

Still, the idea of the dark, silent room had her skin crawling.

 

She was leaving come morning, working toward finding somewhere to go, some sense of purpose. How could one night hurt that?

 

One night to lose herself in the warmth of another body? One night where she wasn’t so fucking lonely?

 

Sam reached out and curled her fingers around the belt at the man’s waist before pulling him toward the Rexford.

 

Not that it took any real pulling; He came willingly. Hell, he didn’t even argue when she walked him past Clair like a pet.

 

At the first set of stairs, Sam turned and pulled him into a kiss, hand releasing his belt to reach down and cup him through the pants.

 

Already hard, and the thrust of his hips said what he wanted. He wrapped a hand in her hair as he deepened the kiss, the stairs giving her enough of a height boost that he didn’t need to crouch or tilt his head.

 

She broke the kiss. “You said you had a room?”

 

“You don’t want to go to yours?”

 

No. She didn’t want him in her space. That was too close, too personal, too real.

 

Whatever appeared on her face, he kissed away. “Sure. We’ll go to my room.” Instead of pulling her toward the rooms, he grabbed her thighs and wrapped them around his waist, walking them both up the stairs.

 

And damn, the man was strong. He moved her like she was nothing, like it was so damned easy. Not that she’d had any shortage of strong men.

 

Jericho had loved to throw her around when they had sex, the edge of violence always between them. Charon, for all his strength, had been exceedingly gentle. Where did this man fall between those two extremes?

 

He closed the door behind them, throwing the lock before he dropped her onto the bed. “I always liked these vault suits.” His fingers hooked around the zipper and pulled it down, parting the material. He dropped to knees in front of her as he worked the fabric off her. His fingers brushed her nipples as he pushed the suit off her. “Should I just call you 101?”

 

“I don’t care what you call me. Just keep doing that.”

 

He pulled the clothing over her hips, forcing her to lie back and lift her ass. Her shoes were tossed aside for him to get her the rest of the way naked.

 

She’d worn underwear beneath the suit, but he pulled those off along with it. A bra hadn’t seemed worth it for a while, especially when she stopped caring about trying to look nice. Fuck that.

 

He spread her knees, the movement quick and assured. The scent of alcohol didn’t pour from him, no chems, and he was way too clean to live in Goodneighbor. Must be passing through.

 

Based on the muscles, the confidence, he was a man who knew how to take care of himself. Merc? Soldier? Raider? Too clean and polite to be a raider.

 

Sam’s money would be on soldier or gunner. He just had the air of a man used to giving orders. And she had no problem taking a few orders, just for the night.

 

“You’re pretty,” he said, breath spilling over her thighs as he leaned in.

 

His lips trailed up her knee, her thigh. His beard scratched her skin as he went, and he let her legs fall apart. Give in to it.

 

She was going to have to go back to her lonely nights, so for tonight? Tonight she wouldn’t fight it, not when she had a handsome, willing stranger.

 

When he reached her cunt, her legs spread further around his shoulders. He drug his tongue up her slit in a hard stroke that dipped between her folds. When he passed over her clit, she gasped, back arching at the hard touch.

 

He didn’t slow down, didn’t stop despite her reaction. Instead, he only went harder. His lips toyed with her folds, tongue rubbing against her clit. When her legs moved, he pressed his hands to the insides of her thighs, spreading them wide and pinning them. It left her at his mercy.

 

And by the way he devoured her, he didn’t have much.

 

“Fuck,” she moaned, hand raising above her to grasp at the blanket on his bed. It did nothing to ground her or give her any measure of control.

 

The orgasm hit her so fast, she hadn’t expected it. On the nights when she got herself off, she liked to toy, to go slow, to drag it out. Some bullshit parody of romance.

 

That wasn’t this man. He drove her into the orgasm so hard she made no sound when it hit her, her lungs seizing, muscles tightening.

 

He latched his lips around her clit when she came, sucking to prolong her orgasm, each wave crashing over her as he pulled her further.

 

“Stop.” The plea was on a gasp as she squirmed away.

 

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh before he stood. “Do you want to keep this going?”

 

Did she? Fuck, yes.

 

She must have nodded because he smiled as he pulled his shirt off.

 

Damn. When was the last time she’d seen a man who looked that good? Dark hair covered his chest and the line of hair that went from his navel and disappeared beneath the line of his jeans. His fingers went to the button, then undid it. “I like how you look at me, vaultie, like you’re hungry.” He pushed the jeans off him, and Sam’s breath caught.

 

Hell yes.

 

He didn’t give her long to look before he crawled over her, taking her lips in a deep kiss. He swallowed every sound she made, her knee bending, heel against the mattress, as she lifted her hips to get him to hurry up.

 

“You’ve always been impatient, haven’t you?” He lifted his body up and reached between them. His cock fit against her cunt and he rocked his hips forward enough to add pressure, but not enough to enter her.

 

“Are you going to talk all night or fuck me?”

 

“Does it have to be one or the other?”

 

Sam reached down to wrap a hand around his waist, nails digging in as she lifted her hips up. It forced his cock into her, and the bite of her nails caused him to thrust forward.

 

“Fuck,” he hissed, the word harsh on his lips suggesting he didn’t curse often.

 

Another MacCready? Another reason it would never work, because she cursed as often as she breathed.

 

“Stop playing games and get to it. I’ve seen major offensives take less time than you.”

 

His chuckle spilled from his lips and across her cheeks before he sat back on his knees, grasping her thighs. “I assure you, I am good at planning major offensives. Let me see if I can’t do better.” He hooked his arms beneath her knees, lifting her ass from the bed so when he pulled out of her and thrust back in, he went deeper.

 

Damn, he filled her perfectly. She’d missed this, the way a man stretched her, the weight of a heavy body on her. It made her feel real, made everything feel real.

 

He used his grip on her knees to move her as he fucked her, cock stroking against her just the right way. His hips rolled, and he pressed against a spot inside her that her jerking up to her knees, eyes wide.

 

He smirked. “A weakness? Any good commander would take advantage.” He repeated the move, pressing against the same place.

 

This time, Sam let her head drop backward, but she stayed on her elbows, fingers clutching the blankets.

 

His rhythm continued, each thrust hitting that same spot, and before she knew it, she was a moaning mess again. Her stomach tightened, body tense and desperate.

 

His hands moved her ankles up to his shoulders, his hands sliding beneath her ass. “Are you going to come for me again? Tell me.”

 

“Yes,” she whimpered when he thrust in deeper. She reached between her legs.

 

He knocked her hand away. “You’ll come on my cock alone,” he said in that same ordering tone that made her toes curl against his shoulders.

 

He moved forward, leaning over her, angling her hips more. Another thrust as he was right; she came, so much more satisfying when her cunt squeezed around him instead of nothing.

 

His fingers gripped her ass hard, a deep groan, but he pulled out when her body sagged. He let her lie back and he wrapped his hand around his cock, coming on her stomach in thick lines.

 

The heat of his come almost burned against the chill of the room, the way her sweat cooled on her skin.

 

“Was that okay?” He passed a rag over her stomach, cleaning her. “I normally would have asked first but, well, you manage to undo my control.” He laid down beside her, head propped up on an elbow.

 

Sam nodded, missing the warmth of his touch. “Yeah.” She rolled to her side, feet swinging over the side of the bed. “I better get going.”

 

He watched her as she stood, reaching for her clothing. “You don’t have to go, Sam.”

 

She froze. “How do you know my name?”

 

His eyebrow lifted, but he said nothing.

 

She yanked her vault suit on, hopping as she worked it over her feet. Who the fuck was he? Her gaze traced the room, looking for hints.

 

A heavy brown coat hung on a hook by the door, an assortment of weapons that pegged him as a fighter, but she’d already known that. Hung beside the coat? A Brotherhood jumpsuit.

 

“You’re Brotherhood.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I knew some Brotherhood in DC. You weren’t there; I sure as fuck wouldn’t forget you.”

 

He sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed to sit, feet on the floor. “They say my soul was forged in eternal fire, but I’m not sure I believe that.”

 

Fuck.

 

“You’re kidding me, right? You’re fucking Arthur Maxson?” She couldn’t help that her voice rose to a yell.

 

“To be fair, you are actually fucking Arthur Maxson.”

 

“You were a kid. Oh, god, I’m a pervert.” She put her hands over her face as she tried to not think about the sweet kid she’d met at the Citadel. "You were just a kid. What the hell happened? This isn't just puberty, this is some mutant shit." 

 

The bed groaned as he stood. He grasped her hands and pulled them away, forcing her to look at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a kid anymore, Sam.”

 

“I noticed that about the time you put your dick in me.”

 

“Good. If you hadn’t noticed by then, I’d be insulted.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

He set his hand on her cheek, thumb rubbing over her jawline. “You surprised me. I spent more nights than I want to admit over the last decade thinking about you in that vault suit. I saw you walking out of the Third Rail looking so damned much like I remembered, and you had no idea who I was, and I knew if I told you, you’d get caught up on age.” His thumb traced her bottom lip. “You would have turned me down, and I’d waited too long to risk that.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, whispering against them. “And you looked really damned lonely out there.”

 

She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was an asshole, that he was wrong, but he wasn’t. “What do you know? You’re a kid.”

 

“Come back to bed, Sam. You don’t have to be lonely tonight.” He pulled her back toward the bed.

 

Sam let him do it because the offer of companionship was too strong to let it go, even if it was from Arthur Maxson. “This doesn’t mean shit.”

 

“Of course not.” Fuck, who had taught him snark? He laid down, head pillowed on his bicep. “What are you doing here? You disappeared from DC without a word.”

 

Sam mirrored his position. “What I’m always doing. Running. Looking for something, somewhere to fit.”

 

He set his hand on her hip, rubbing it through the vault suit. “You were always good at that. You could fit in here, though. There’s a place for you here.”

 

“It’s been a long time since I fit in anywhere.”

 

“You fit better than you think. Besides, I’ll make a place for you.”

 

“Little Arthur Maxson is going to help me?”

 

He pulled her forward so her pelvis pressed against his. “Not so little anymore. And yes, I will. I have things to do here, important things, things you could be invaluable for. Stay, Sam, at least for a while.”

 

She pressed her lips together for a moment, the temptation high. A place to call her own? A connection to something? A purpose? Hell, she could use that.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

His fingers grasped her zipper. “I think I can convince you.”

 

“Oh yeah, kid?”

 

He pulled the zipper down, a slow tease, each click of the teeth a promise. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

He rolled over, thigh sliding between hers, pressing against her cunt, even that indirect touch almost too much. “Yes. I go by Elder now, and I’m going to have you moaning it soon.”

 

He was probably right, but Sam wasn’t about to give in.

 

She smiled up at him, for once not just content, but happy. “Well, good luck, kid.”

 


End file.
